Iwaki

Stopped by Iwaki for a day and a half to check some pulses, including my own.

One of the quieter ones was finally relaxed enough to tell her story of how afraid she was during the March 11 quake, how the power was out that night, and how she wishes she had been a good enough driver to be able to evacuate from the nuclear zone using back roads, instead of the shoreline road where her eighth-grade child saw such scary sights and kept asking her whether they could please just go home. Nobody should see a car lodged in the side of a building, and that much destruction. The sight of places she knew... Her house in the nuclear zone smells empty, she says. Feels odd that anyone lived there. Appliances ruined from leaving mid-everything. Weeds up to her head. Animals either dead, dying, or gone wild. Cows eyeing her house, in the middle of town. But her whole family is settling into their new life well, and they'll probably stay here in Iwaki for a good long while.

Another friend smiles brighter and stands stronger than I've ever seen. She has had strong opinions all along about the power company that runs the nuclear plant. Her husband works there now, until his radiation exposure count reaches the maximum level allowed. She's taking the whole thing in stride. Cleanup needs to happen, and it's a job. Something about seeing her do extremely normal things, like pick up her teenager from school, makes me smile.

The lady across the street didn't have a smile this summer. She does now. She asked whether it's cold in America now, and gave me two scarves. Gifting is good. It's a life thing.

The staff are earthquake-jaded. I was in the middle of a serious conversation with one of the staff when a strong quake hit. Intensity 4 or low-5, depending on where you got the news. She just plain kept talking. I got a little distracted by the building shaking so much, laughed at how casual she was about it, and asked her to repeat what she just said. I, uh, wasn't listening.

Another familiar face didn't take it so well. She was at a party when the quake hit, and it scared her so badly that she started to cry and asked her friends to please take her home. She needed to be home. Some wounds are still raw.


Normal life stuff is happening for the high-school girl at the convenience store. Graduation. Placement at a full-time job. Buying a car. Good, everyday, growing-up stuff.

Volunteer work is at a low ebb. The disaster is old news and interest is waning. Rebuilding begins soon. New neighborhoods are in the planning stages. There's a shift from short-term relief work to long-term cooperation. It's unclear exactly what rebuilding will look like, and what kind of volunteer work will be involved. But Global Mission Center will be there doing whatever it takes.

Me? I hate to leave. But I'm glad to see life on the upswing, and the stubborn determination of the long-termers who have outright moved to Iwaki City. Good ol' Kinchan is still talking logistics of how to feed a crowd. Pastor Mori has a fierceness to him, a passion to see this through, to see his city fully recovered and walking with God.

Teenagers, both normal-looking and punkish, think the church belongs to them. It does. They keep the adults on their toes. It's a good thing.

There are even a few love stories flitting about. Marriage, engagement, and isn't-he-absolutely-gorgeous. Good stuff.

Life is winning. The story isn't over yet. The good news is, it won't be over for a long, long time.

I love you, Iwaki. Keep winning.